The Lost Time
by marymin
Summary: "Could it be that you've forgotten?" She visits them all.


As the universe resets, as the curtains fall and the scenery is rearranged to correspond with the proper day that should have passed seasons ago, Kido finds herself in her childhood home, her knees drawn up to her chest. Her throat still aches from screaming, but the brush moving through her hair calms her almost instantly. The carpet beneath her is worn and gray, and her back presses against the side of someone's bed and a pair of knees.

Immediately, she recognizes Ayano's bedroom. And when she speaks, Kido recognizes Ayano's voice.

"Don't cry, Tsubomi."

Until then, Kido hadn't noticed that her eyes were wet with tears, and she sniffles, scrubbing at her nose with the edge of a sleeve. Why is she crying, again? Blood seeping through light-colored hair flashes into her mind, but she can't parse the memory. Did Kano get hurt somehow? He really was an idiot.

Her lips almost form the words, the act of calling him stupid so familiar, but a sob shakes her chest instead, and the hairbrush stops its gentle motions. It's replaced by Ayano's soft hand instead, patting the crown of her head.

"You'll have to lead them, if something happens to me," Ayano reminds her, her voice soft.

Kido nods, covering her nose and mouth and fighting another sob. Why couldn't she stop crying? Swallowing hard, she croaked, "Nothing will happen though, right?"

The warm hand withdraws.

"Oh, Tsubomi..."

When Kido turns around, she is alone in the room.

...

Seto's eyes open to blood and he panics, shooting to his feet. But the only injury is a ragged scrape on his knee, and below him his legs are small and reedy, and he staggers in confusion. A light laugh from behind him makes him turn.

Ayano is just exiting the house, a bandaid between her forefinger and thumb. "Careful," she cautions, and he sits down on the doorstep again, feeling dazed and confused.

"You really got banged up this time, huh?" she asked with a cheerful giggle, kneeling in front of him and ripping open the paper packaging, and he tucks his hands beneath his legs, a sheepish grin appearing on his face.

"Yeah, guess so," he replies, though somehow he senses it could be much worse than one scrape on one knee.

It only stings a little when she presses the bandage to his knee, and then her eyes flicker up to his and there's a determination there, the surety of a captain giving orders to his troops.

"You have to pay more attention," she says, and he nods dumbly, but she seizes his hand and squeezes it. "No, I mean it. You have to pay more attention to what you see."

Seto isn't sure she's talking about the scrape anymore. "What I...?"

The sun is sinking low and red on the horizon, and she checks it as though it's a watch. He checks too, squinting towards the pink-streaked clouds, and when the sunspots have vanished from his eyes, his sister is gone.

...

The playground is dark, the wind ghosting around horizontal bars and lashing swings against their frames. Kano wraps both arms around himself to fight the chill. He doesn't want to be here.

There's a sense of dread that hasn't faded, one that only grows as he slowly turns on the spot, his eyes scanning the area. When he's turned a full circle, there's a girl standing against the bar, smiling at him, one where there wasn't before.

He takes a step backwards but she closes the distance between them, her dark hair whipping around her, and somehow it seems so wrong to him that she's missing the ever-present scarf, especially on a cold night like this.

Kano expects orders, he expects plans. He flinches and braces himself for her to unfold the next part of her scheme.

He can't even fake a smile as she steps closer, and her hair blows into his face, making him close his eyes in reflex. Before he can open them again, her arms wrap around him, and she is warmer than he remembers, warmer than a summer day. Kano clings to the fabric of her school uniform, desperate and exhausted.

"I'm so proud of you, Shuuya," she tells him, and holds him as long as her time allows.

When she fades, he falls to his knees, unable to keep himself standing without her to hold onto.

At the perimeter of the playground, the street lights flicker on to pierce the darkness.

...

Momo flings her arms up to defend herself, and when she lowers them she can't remember why. She remembers people, and she's alone, and she remembers being empty-handed, but in her hand there's a test paper, crumpled tightly.

That's right, she re-remembers, the red-ink score catching her eyes. She's failed again.

Tight-lipped, she forces a smile, her mind reeling through words and sentences and searching for something to say to her mother when she gets home. Money's tight, lately, and her mother doesn't need the added stress of Momo's bad grades.

There's nothing she can do to make this test score okay.

The hot tears in Momo's eyes threaten to fall, but someone takes the paper from her before they can wet it and blur the ink.

"Ah... I remember doing this back then..." a voice murmurs, and Momo looks up to see an ordinary-looking girl in a high school uniform. "But look how good your grade is! Way better than mine."

Momo blinks in confusion, and though the pressure behind her eyes has lessened, a stray tear still drips off her cheek.

"Oh, don't cry!" The girl waves her hands, looking nervous and apologetic, and Momo has to laugh. "Okay, okay, look at this."

Tongue sticking out between her lips, the high schooler folds the paper into shapes, bending and flipping it with a look of extreme concentration. As she works, the stranger says quietly, "I bet you're smarter than you think, you know." Momo snorts, and she falls silent again.

When she's done, the folded paper almost looks like a bear. "Ehehe... I'm not that great at this one yet..." she laughs, scratching her cheek with one finger.

Momo's eyes light up, however. "That's so cute!" she gasps, taking the paper. "You'll teach me, right?"

There's no answer, and when she looks up from the almost-bear, the street is empty.

...

Takane must have left her webcam on. That's the only thing that explains Ayano's voice, sailing through her speakers with a tinny tone.

"Are you there?" she asks, and Takane blinks, rubbing sleep from her eyes. Somehow, she feels crushed and crumbled and aching, though she can't remember what she would have done to stress her already weak body.

"Stop shouting," she gripes, swiping the touch pad so the screen lights up, and there's Ayano on the other side of it, leaning too close to the camera. It somehow makes Takane only scowl harder, knowing they could be meeting face-to-face and instead they're speaking to each other through a screen like this.

While she's working herself into a proper glower, Ayano taps the camera, a curious expression on her face. Then she speaks. "What would you do if you could do anything?" she asked, and Takane shrugs.

"Dunno. Not listen to idiots blathering at me when I'm trying to sleep. What about you?"

Ayano smiles. "You wouldn't want to live forever?"

It's so serious and out of place that Takane blinks, startled. There's a long silence that stretches on, and the little clock in the bottom right hand corner of her screen changes from one minute to the next.

"No, that's boring," she says finally, and Ayano giggles.

"I guess so! Look, I need to get going, I-"

The webcam cuts out, and Takane wonders dully in the darkness where she could be going at this time of night.

...

When Hibiya wakes in bed it's so familiar that he doesn't even check the date before he throws the covers off, his bare feet hitting the floor. It's a matter of seconds for him to throw on his jacket and sandals, and of course no one stops him as he leaves the house, even though it's still dark outside.

There should be no one around- he knows this by now, so he doesn't even check- but a voice at the street corner startles him.

"Don't give up!" she cheers, and he jumps in shock, taking in the sight of a teenage girl with a wide smile. She looks familiar and not familiar, and he squints.

Before he can ask who she is, she repeats it, punching the air.

"Do your best!" she adds, with a confident pose, and Hibiya rolls his eyes. He has the timing down exactly, and that leaves zero seconds to waste on weirdos.

Not sparing her another glance, he jogs past her and down the street. He doesn't think about it again, but there's a slight smile on his face as he turns the corner.

...

The shadows melt from his hair like wax and coil at his feet, and Konoha whirrs like a tired computer. He blinks, his eyes changing to a blank and empty pink, but only for a second before they well with tears.

His knees strike the pavement and he clutches at his chest, digging his fingers into the fabric as if he can rip out the parasite that powers his body now. "No," he mumbles, the sound catching in his throat. "No."

A pair of arms wrap around him, and he stills just a little, looking up to see a young girl with red clips in her hair. She's unfamiliar, but everyone is unfamiliar to Konoha. "It's okay," she mumbles, rubbing his back as though he's a small child. "It's alright."

"I killed them," he tries to explain, but no words can convey what just happened, what he knows just happened, even though now his sleeves are white and the blood is gone from his hands.

"I know, but you didn't mean to," Ayano murmurs, and he's too terrified and broken to wonder how her name comes so easily to him. Instead, he just buries his face in her shoulder, trembling.

It's not long at all before she pulls away, taking his face in both hands.

"You can do it this time. I know you can," she murmurs, and he doesn't know what she means but he nods anyway. "One more try?"

Konoha doesn't get a chance to answer before the stage goes dark around him, the reset complete.

...

When morning comes again, the children are gone and Ayano is almost alone in the red-dyed world.

She's not entirely by herself though, and a being older than she can imagine joins her to watch the sun glow in the streets for a few moments.

"I'd like to talk to her sometime too," Ayano says, folding her hands behind her back and smiling at the sky. "Your granddaughter, I mean. If you'll let me."

"She's re-spinning the universe," Azami chides, folding her arms. "It's her own inexperience that gives you this time at all."

Ayano knows this, has had this conversation time and again, but still she makes a quiet noise in disappointment.

"Your words won't do any good, you know. They won't remember."

That too, Ayano knows, and she chuckles and nods. Azami turns to leave, before noticing an oddity.

"...What happened to your scarf?"

Ayano only laughs again, sneaking a sideways glance at her. "We'll have to see, won't we?"


End file.
